Chapter 1

On the mining planet Basalto there is a very popular motto among miners and merchants: “Work hard, die fast.” What might seem like nothing more than a slogan—a saying that serves as a grim reminder of the hopeless life of workers on the planet—is in reality a badge of perseverance and courage.

The days are long and the labor is harsh, and although to many it may appear unjust, the yoke of a cowardly slavery disguised under another name is the punishment the Empire imposes on those without cordonance.

After a scorching shift in one of the mines of the great rocky planet, the workers return to their residential complexes.

— It’s been a long day, huh? — Misar comments to his companion as they walk through a long dark tunnel.

— Yeah. More than usual today. — he replies while rubbing his face with a dusty hand.

— Do you know how long we’ll have to stay in this mine? I think it’s bullshit that the JAM sent the entire Complex 102 here.

— I don’t know. They haven’t said anything. Back in Fermin we at least had the commercial sector nearby. Now we don’t even have one within two hours of here.

— Yeah, but it is what it is, right? Orders come straight from the Imperial administration.

— Yeah. Whatever those freaks are plotting, I hope it ends soon… and that we at least get rewarded for it.

The conversation faded, and the two miners parted ways as soon as Misar reached his destination: the ascension platform of his residential complex.

Misar was a young miner from the planet Basalto. Despite his relatively young age (by Imperial standards), he was known for his relentless drive in the mines and for a determination unlike any other. He had always believed that if he had failed to accomplish something, it was simply because he had not tried hard enough. Perhaps an overly optimistic mindset for someone whose greatest aspiration was limited to reaching an early retirement.

Misar sat beside other workers from his complex, waiting for the platform’s ascension time. Exhausted from a long day in the mines, he paused to contemplate the vastness and unmatched beauty of the basaltic night sky: an epiphany of stars and shimmering lights adorned by two moons whose glow softly caressed Misar’s skin like a gentle breeze.

Many thoughts passed through his mind: the immensity of the universe, the distance of the stars, and how they, despite being free within the celestial vault, seemed chained to an existence frozen in eternal stillness. Misar was accustomed to a life of hard work and effort. Although he would have liked—like all residents of that planet—to have been born with cordonance, he didn’t dwell on it. He knew it would change nothing. Reality was what it was, and it had to be faced with one’s head held high.

Once the ascension hour arrived, countless warnings and safety protocols began to deploy in order to prevent accidents during the process. The circular platform extended a bright cyan plasma dome and began to rotate, producing a sharp sound similar to that of an object moving at tremendous speed.

The ascension process—from the moment he sat in the aluminum chairs placed around the edges of the platform to the murmurs of camaraderie among the other workers—was without a doubt Misar’s favorite moment of the day, as it was for most of the miners. They knew it marked the eve of a modest rest, and that despite how miserable life could seem, it was not entirely tragic.

After the platform ascended, Misar waited for the crowd of workers to disperse before continuing along his usual route through the residential complex.

He walked down the narrow transversal alley that connected most of the blocks. He passed residential blocks 401, 402, 403. Then, at the intersection where the block ended, he continued forward: 404 and 405. At block 405, he stopped at residence C, located at the lower section of the block beside the emergency stairs leading to the upper floor.

Misar stopped in front of a nickel-plated door with the inscription “Kairos Hrau” at the top. He dusted off his hands and placed his right palm on a small panel protruding from the wall beside the handle. A faint beep indicated that the door had been unlocked.

— Home. — Misar announced as he removed his bulky mining gear.

— I’m glad you’re home, dear. — said a female voice from the kitchen.

— You know… today was a long day. — Misar commented while putting on his house slippers. — Bar accidentally knocked over two of the five carts today during one of his clownish episodes, and everyone—

— Oh my dear, those things happen. The good thing is that everyone in your group is very united and supports each other. — she said while serving dinner into two porcelain bowls.

Gala sat down at the table after placing one of the dishes in front of her son.

— Didn’t you hear me? Everyone wanted to report the incident, knowing Bar would get fined. I was the only one who stayed quiet. If anything, I’m the one who’s very “united,” don’t you think?

— That’s true, dear. That’s very good. — she replied with clear disinterest.

— Good how? — he sighed. — You’re not even listening to me.

— You’re right. Absolutely right.

Her pupils flickered, and subtle smiles played across her lips. Gala wasn’t listening to her son, clearly. Though her body sat at the table eating with Misar, her mind wandered through the empty entertainment offered by the EINs (Neural Immersive Experiences) she used to escape her heated reality.

Incredible… — Misar said in a weak voice. — It was good, Mom. Thanks.

Misar left with a knot in his throat and his bowl half finished. He placed it in the sink and walked to his room without saying another word to his mother, knowing she wouldn’t hear him anyway.

The young miner did not feel heard. In fact, he had not felt truly listened to for several years. Malec, his father, had been the only person with whom his words did not return empty. Since his death, however, Misar had resigned himself to living encapsulated within his own world, becoming the sole audience of his solitary conversations.